


Please, Call Me Narcissa

by DontStopHerNow



Series: Summer of Strings [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Narcissa Black Malfoy-centric, Red String of Fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontStopHerNow/pseuds/DontStopHerNow
Summary: The name you call yourself is as important as the name others call you. Narcissa has felt this in her bones since she was a child, hence her signature catchphrase.What began as a way to state her preferred name becomes something else as she ages and re-discovers herself after the Battle of Hogwarts.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Kingsley Shacklebolt
Series: Summer of Strings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683559
Kudos: 21





	1. Past Imperfect

**Author's Note:**

> So, this started as a crack idea, but as soon as I started writing it, I had to take it seriously. 
> 
> I simply love this version of Narcissa, and I hope you find yourself loving her as much as I do.

The Black’s Summer Solstice Ball of 1966 was the first that Cissy Black would be allowed to attend. It was the summer before she would attend Hogwarts and it was traditional for the Black children to be introduced to wizarding society at the Solstice Ball.

Cissy was excited. Mimi had helped her pick out her first dress robes at Madam Malkins. Bella was going to do her hair. Mother and Father had given permission for her to have a touch of glamour. It finally seemed like she might be able to stop being just the baby, like maybe she would be taken seriously as a real adult.

If only she felt like she could grow up someday.

After her dress fitting the week before the ball, Cissy had finally gotten her real wand, testing about twenty before Mr Ollivander had settled on willow, 10 ½”, springy, dragon heartstring. That had made her feel like an adult. The way Mr Ollivander had called her Miss Black, not Cissy or Miss Cissy, _that_ had made her feel like an adult.

The only people who called her Cissy were the ones who made her feel like the baby. She was not a baby anymore, though! She was eleven years old! She would be going to Hogwarts in only two months!

Maybe she could try going by her full name. It certainly sounded more adult than Cissy.

She practiced in the mirror like her elocution tutor taught her. “Narcissa. Narcissa Black.”

She simpered at the mirror. “Narcissa Black, charmed to meet you.”

She turned, extending her hand. “Narcissa Black, and you are?”

She tried to smile the dazzling smile she had seen Bella smile at her boyfriend. “Hi, I’m Narcissa.”

She pouted. It was good, but there was something missing. “Narcissa Black. Please, call me Narcissa.”

Her face lit up. That was it! “Please, call me Narcissa…”

* * *

She placed her fork and knife on her plate and cleared her throat. “Mother, Father, Sisters, I’ve decided. Please call me Narcissa, not Cissy anymore.”

Her mother smiled. “Why, of course, darling.”

Bella pinched Narcissa’s side. “Why, darling Cissy? You’ll always be my little Cissy…” She pouted.

Narcissa rubbed the pinched spot. “I just don’t like it anymore. I like my full name.”

Andromeda smiled. “Sure. Narcissa.” She nodded.

Bella frowned. “Is this what you were doing all afternoon yesterday? ‘Please, call me Narcissa. Please, call me Narcissa.’ So stupid, baby Cissy.”

Narcissa felt small. She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “Mr Ervante told me to practice saying things in the mirror, for my diction…”

Bella cackled. “Oh, well, if Mr _Ervante_ said so!”

Father cleared his throat from the head of the table. “Bellatrix, that’s enough. You’ll not mock the hard work I’ve paid for. At least Cissy is doing her assignments.”

Narcissa frowned. Her voice barely escaped her. “Father, please, call me Narcissa…”

Bella cackled again, so long and hard she had to be excused from the table.

* * *

Standing in the receiving line beside her grandmother at the ball, Narcissa had plenty of opportunity to practice her introduction. Her grandmother seemed to forget each time she introduced Narcissa, despite the fact that the script never changed.

“Oh, Mr and Mrs Travers! So delighted you could make it! I’d like to introduce you to my granddaughter, Cissy Black.”

Narcissa would extend her hand and curtsey, smiling. “Please, call me Narcissa.”

Her grandmother would smile and nod, saying nothing to confirm or deny that she had gotten Narcissa’s name wrong, and the cycle would repeat.

It was almost time for dinner to begin when the cycle was suddenly broken.

“Oh, Lord and Lady Malfoy, it’s been too long! May I introduce my granddaughter, Cissy Black?”

Lord and Lady Malfoy smiled and took Narcissa’s extended hand in turns as she curtseyed and said, “Please, call me Narcissa.”

Lady Malfoy nodded briefly. “And, Miss Narcissa, Mrs Black, might I introduce our son, Lucius Malfoy? I believe you’ll both be starting Hogwarts on September first.”

A boy with white-blond hair and sharp features stepped forward and extended his hand to Narcissa. He glanced up at his father before his eyes fixed on Narcissa’s face. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Black. Father says I mustn’t address girls by their given names.”

His hand was warm. It made Narcissa feel warm.

Lord Malfoy clapped his hand on Lucius’s shoulder. “That’s enough, son.” His eyes fixed on Narcissa’s grandmother. “Thank you for having us, Mrs Black.”

* * *

Of course Narcissa Black was sorted into Slytherin. The hat had briefly considered Hufflepuff, but there really was no other place for a Black than Slytherin House. She was soon joined by the boy from the ball, Lucius Malfoy. He largely ignored her. Narcissa found she could not ignore him, though. She never could ignore him.

By the end of her fourth year, Narcissa found herself quite obsessed with Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was distant, regal, beautiful. He seemed to stay as far from the Slytherin girls as he could. The few times a year when he was paired with Narcissa for class work and his attention was forced to focus on her, he continued to call her Miss Black.

To everyone else in their House, she was Narcissa, but to Lucius Malfoy, she would apparently always be Miss Black. It drove her to distraction.

At the Summer Solstice ball that year, Narcissa was finally permitted to stay until midnight before returning upstairs. She wore light blue robes that showed off as much cleavage as she possessed and was allowed to show. Bella had helped her pick these ones out. Narcissa was not sure how Bella had managed to slip it past Mother, but surely these would be the robes that would finally get Lucius Malfoy to notice her!

When she saw him across the room in his Slytherin green, her breath caught in her throat. He was _so_ handsome… What was she going to do? Just hide in this corner talking to Andromeda, probably.

After dinner, when the dancing began, she hid in the corner again, with her nightmare Aunt Walburga nattering on about blood purity and mudbloods ruining everything.

Somehow, Lucius Malfoy appeared beside them. “Miss Black, I hope you’ll do me the honor of standing up with me for the next dance.”

Narcissa felt like she was frozen in place until her aunt accepted on her behalf. She nodded, staring into his silver eyes.

As the current song ended, she stood and met Lucius on the dance floor. The new song began, and they moved as one across the floor. Narcissa’s hands were on him, and his hands were on her and everything felt right with the world. She looked over his shoulder as they twirled until she heard him counting under his breath.

“...one, two, three...one, two, three…”

She swallowed. Maybe if she teased him a bit, he would relax? “What am I to call you, then?”

His steps faltered and she had to pull him along, taking over the lead flawlessly. “What do you mean, Miss Black?”

“You call me Miss Black, but what are your father’s rules on what a young lady might call you?” She glanced up at his face with a smirk.

His mouth twitched in a way that made her stomach flip over. He took the lead back and pulled her a fraction closer to him as they glided across the floor. “You may call me Lucius.”

She smiled. The song was coming to an end. As they came to a stop, Narcissa pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. “Well then, Lucius… Please feel free to call me Narcissa… unless your father rules your every action…”

She pulled back and turned away, glancing back over her shoulder at his stunned face.

It was the most forward thing she had ever done.

* * *

By Christmas, Lucius Malfoy seemed to be staring at her as much as she stared at him. The night before the holiday began, they both appeared at the Slytherin holiday party and Narcissa swore she would do _something_ to solidify his attentions tonight.

Two elfin brandies into her evening and they had gravitated into each other’s spheres. He had clearly matched his friends in drinking and it showed in the pink tinge of his cheeks. When finally, Lucius’s last friend went to refill his drink, they were left alone with Narcissa perched on the arm of one of the hideous couches by a wall and Lucius leaned against the wall, feet crossed as he swirled his snifter of Ogden’s.

She smiled her most practiced alluring smile. “What do you think you’ll do after Hogwarts, Lucius?”

His eyebrow arched in that way that made her want to take a nibble of his face. “Father wants me to expand the potions section of the family business, considering my grades.”

She nodded. “And, what of your other prospects?”

That perfectly arched eyebrow twitched and he smirked. “Mother would love to see me betrothed by the time I leave school, of course… Heirs do not produce themselves…”

She licked her lips and glanced up at him through her lashes. “Anyone specific in mind?”

He was leaning over her in a quite intense way now. “Just a girl I’d be _pleased_ to call Narcissa, Miss Black…”

She shivered and nodded, draining her glass.

* * *

Their wedding was the social event of the year. She had never been so happy. She fell directly into her new role as Mrs Malfoy although she felt that Mrs Malfoy would always remain Lucius’s mother in her own mind.

Now they were married, she could not tell if this was how one was supposed to feel about their soulmate. She respected Lucius immensely and loved him to distraction, but she felt… bored? listless? frustrated? She had the distinct impression he saw her as a prize he had been given. Why was she never invited for the private instruction he received from his mentor? He seemed to confide in Bellatrix more than her. She put it out of her mind as well as she could.

In the month after their wedding, Lucius introduced her to some of his friends that had not been invited to their wedding. It was at one of these dinner parties that Lucius introduced Narcissa to his mysterious mentor.

The man was tall, dark haired, with piercing dark eyes. “Darling, I’d like to introduce you to Lord Voldemort. My Lord, this is my wife, Mrs Narcissa Malfoy.”

Narcissa extended her hand to meet his. “Lord Voldemort, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Please, call me Narcissa.”

Lord Voldemort smiled, dazzling her with the force of his charisma. He took her hand and bowed over it, kissing her knuckles. “My lady, Narcissa, I do hope I’m not keeping Lucius too busy. I understand how newlyweds can be.”

Lucius blushed and Narcissa chuckled, feeling an odd sort of slithering feeling in her mind as she looked into his eyes.

* * *

She missed Andromeda. It was an ache she could not seem to medicate away. She found herself with so much more time to miss her sister than she had ever expected. The house elves ran the Manor with little input from her. Lucius and Bella were always off with the Dark Lord. As she spent money to fill the ache inside her, she caught herself searching the crowds at Diagon Alley for her own hair color on more than one occasion.

And then, one day, Narcissa saw her! Her sister, her Mimi, carrying shopping bags, leading a toddler by the hand. She approached carefully.

“Andromeda?” Why was her voice shaking?

Andromeda turned, face passive and voice calm. “Ah, Mrs Malfoy. It’s been quite some time.”

Narcissa’s eyebrows knit together. “How are you? Are you well?”

Andromeda nodded, just once. “This is Nymphadora. Dora, this is your aunt, Mrs Malfoy.”

Narcissa crouched down and extended her hand. “Dora, it’s lovely to meet you. Please, call me Narcissa.”

The toddler’s face broke into a smile. “Nawcissa…” Her hair suddenly went from brown to Narcissa’s pale blonde.

Narcissa’s eyes darted up to her sister’s. “Metamorphmagus?”

Andromeda’s face remained neutral. “We cannot speak now, Mrs Malfoy. I’ve heard who your husband serves.”

Narcissa stood up again. “Lord Voldemort? Why would you care about that?” She reached for her sister. “Mimi, I’ve missed you.”

Andromeda frowned. “You’ll miss me forever if your husband’s master gets his way. He’ll do away with not only my Ted, but also me, and Dora, blood traitor and half-blood that we are.” She picked up Dora in one arm and hurried away before Narcissa could recover.

What was Mimi talking about?

* * *

In the end, Narcissa was glad, in a way, that she heard about Lord Voldemort’s pureblood visions for the world from her sister. It gave her a clearer view of what those views actually were. It would have been impossible to parse the rhetoric spouted by her father-in-law at the dinner table as anything but a good thing. And, Lucius would never have told her, of course.

She had no real opinions about any of it. She loved her sister, but she was bound to Lucius through marriage and their soul bond. None of it could be as bad as Andromeda made it sound, either. It sounded all doom and gloom, but the Dark Lord only wanted what was best for pureblood society. And, how could a man with such charisma be as bad as Andromeda insinuated?

She felt herself becoming Mrs Malfoy, the way Mimi said it that day, with venom in her voice. There was no longer a Narcissa Black, no longer just a Narcissa. She was Darling to Lucius, Mistress to the house elves, Mrs Malfoy then Lady Malfoy to most in their society, and eventually, Mother to her dear Draco.

By the time of the Dark Lord’s fall, Narcissa could barely recognise herself inside all her other names. They had been plastered over her and she could barely see the Narcissa inside.

She continued to introduce herself as who she really wished to be, only Narcissa, but no one acknowledged it. It was like she had never grown up, just replaced Cissy with Mrs Malfoy. Her true self was still ignored by those with more power than she had. She would remain everything but who she really wished to be until the Dark Lord’s second, true fall.


	2. Present Confusion

After the Dark Lord’s true fall, Narcissa Malfoy was pleased to find herself free in a way she had not been in her entire life. Despite being confined to Azkaban for just over a month, Narcissa suddenly had a path forward. Since Lucius’s arrest at the Ministry, she had learned her marriage contract inside and out, and failure to protect and defend her and any of their children from physical or mental attack was sufficient grounds for a divorce decree.

As she sat in her cell in Azkaban, she thought of little else but how Lucius sat by and watched as they were subjected to the Cruciatus, doing nothing to protect or defend her or Draco. If she was a more violent person, she thought she might like to see him tortured in the same manner.

But, Narcissa Black was not a violent person. Narcissa Malfoy had been the person who sat by and watched from behind the names they plastered all over her as her husband was driven to evil by the rhetoric in his head, as her son was convinced to attempt the murder of an innocent girl, as she herself was Imperiused and used for so much more than anyone else could understand. Narcissa Malfoy had been the person who deserved venom from her estranged sister, who let herself bite back when she was next derided, who hardened and perfected her masks to keep herself safe inside.

It was after her trial that she had her first chance to be herself again.

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter had both testified in her defense. It had been somewhat shocking to hear Hermione Granger called on the second day of her trial. Narcissa had been expecting to be the only one testifying after Harry’s testimony yesterday.

But, Hermione Granger did testify for Narcissa, and it was a fascinating display. She wished she could thank Ms Granger in person, but the young witch did not return for the afternoon session.

Narcissa gave all the testimony she could manage that afternoon, ending with how she had given her wand to Draco for the Battle of Hogwarts so he could try to defend himself. The Wizengamot seemed to be trying to stuff her entire trial into these two days, and Narcissa could not understand why.

At approximately eight in the evening of that second day, the court acquitted her of all charges. Narcissa puzzled over it until she looked over to the gallery where Harry Potter sat beside a woman with long graying platinum blonde hair. He was grinning and Andromeda was smiling softly, her eyes gleaming.

When she was free, Narcissa walked carefully out of the courtroom to a long black marble hallway where Harry and Andromeda stood waiting for her.

“Mimi?” Narcissa could hear the tears in her voice. She felt so small now. She was fragile without all the trappings of her old life, her old masks.

Andromeda stepped forward and held out her arms, nodding through her own tears. “Narcissa.”

The sisters held each other and cried as Harry Potter tried awkwardly to melt into the wall. When the sisters parted, Narcissa turned to Harry. “Mr Potter, thank you so much. I will endeavour to deserve your defense of me.”

Harry nodded, a look of vague terror in his eyes. “Oh, just Harry is fine. Yeah, I just, you know, you saved my life in that forest, so I couldn’t sit back and say nothing, Mrs Malfoy.”

Bile rose in Narcissa’s throat, but she swallowed it, and smiled her best smile for the first time in many years. “Harry, please, call me Narcissa.”

And, he did.

* * *

The following week, Narcissa watched her son freed because of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter, just as she had been. And, just as Harry Potter called her Narcissa, so too, did Hermione Granger.

She felt younger than she had felt in two decades, such was the effect of her freedom from the Dark Lord, from Lucius, from her married life. She chased it, hiring a solicitor to pull apart the marriage contract written before she was even Draco’s age. She truly wanted to tear it to shreds, so terrible had been Lucius’s treatment of her in the past decade. She wondered if he had ever thought of her as an equal or respected her beyond her role as the woman who bore his heir.

It would be much easier to obtain the required curse to undo the contract since her discovery that their string frayed to its breaking point. She could no longer see it, nor feel Lucius’s effect on her life. When exactly had it finally broken all the way through? Narcissa assumed it was the day he stood by as the Dark Lord tortured his family half to death. It must have been masked by the pain of the Cruciatus.

That odd girl from the dungeons would know better than anyone, wouldn’t she? She had certainly been Alithini Diairesis, and would be able to tell Narcissa the important parts.

After owling, Narcissa received the replying owl much too quickly, within an hour of her sending it. The reply answered none of her questions, but did answer a few she had considered asking but not written. How odd. Her string wanted to twine again with someone specific and they would make a striking couple.

At least Luna had called her Narcissa.

* * *

Narcissa went for Lucius’s throat at his trial. She watched his face and the faces of the Wizengamot as she told all of his darkest secrets. She set up her testimony to lead directly into Draco’s even more damning story.

She would watch Lucius burn. There was nothing he could do to remain free between her testimony and Draco’s. Any other testimony would simply be the decorative piping on the already lavish cake of Lucius Malfoy’s multiple life sentences in Azkaban.

She was a bit baffled that Draco had not told Hermione about Lucius’s true purpose for his son, but Narcissa was glad she could provide them a little support as Hermione clutched her hand until it went numb and Draco collapsed into an incoherent mess at the end of the day. But, Draco had changed considerably, even since his probation began. Narcissa had every confidence that they would find a way to resolve their issues.

One of the changes Narcissa found most striking was the way that Draco thought now. It was no longer the thinking of a Slytherin. It was something else. He seemed to shy away from the secrecy and slippery thinking of his legacy. She found it immensely challenging, but this was the sort of challenge she had been craving.

And, it _was_ immensely challenging. When her Draco appeared in the middle of the afternoon the Wednesday following his father’s trial, he did a piss-poor job of obfuscating correctly at all. He told her a shadow of the truth, leaving out the specifics but giving her the generalities.

Then, when he reappeared the following Sunday, confused and in tears, he seemed as lost as she had ever seen him. She could be patient. She could be the parent he needed, maybe for the first time.

Then Draco began calling her Mum sometimes, and it felt better than motherhood had felt up to now. She hoped Draco would always call her Mum. She would be whatever he needed, if he would keep calling her the only thing she preferred to Narcissa.

* * *

Early in the evening at Harry Potter’s birthday party, as she found herself in a conversation with Ginny, Molly, and Arthur Weasley (all of whom used her preferred name), everyone’s attention was suddenly caught by a hearty laugh. It was the Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Narcissa felt oddly like she could still hear his laughter even after the din of the party raised again in its wake. “No wonder he’s the Minister with a voice that carries that way.”

Arthur swallowed his punch and nodded. “I don’t know, I voted for Harry.”

As Ginny rolled her eyes and ushered her parents away, she shot Narcissa a look that attempted to say quite a lot more than she was equipped to, with her Gryffindor nature. The look was trying to say something about the Minister, maybe? Narcissa puzzled over it as she accepted a mushroom puff from one of the trays beginning its rounds.

What could Ginny Weasley want to secretly tell her about the Minister?

Ah, maybe Andromeda would know? Here she was with Teddy now. Andromeda kissed her cheek. “Narcissa, you look like a fashion plate. Where on earth did you find that?”

Narcissa smiled and turned for her sister. “Oh, just one of those big muggle stores. The sales girls all fell over themselves to help me.” She gestured across the room to where Hermione was talking to Harry’s cousin. “They tried to convince me I could pull off Hermione’s look.”

The two sisters burst out laughing at the idea of Narcissa in a strapless anything with trousers. “I mean, can you imagine it, Mimi?”

Andromeda’s face was brighter than Narcissa had seen it in thirty years. “I can, and those girls were terrible liars!” She composed herself again. “Hermione does look quite good, though. Did you take her with you?”

Narcissa shook her head. “No, I chose everything on my own. It was quite a nice adventure.” She caught sight of the Minister again, decked out in a suit nearly identical to Draco’s. It fit him quite well but was clearly muggle tailoring. “I think I like muggle clothing better. There’s more variety, at least.”

Andromeda’s eye followed her sister’s. “Do I know that look, Narcissa?”

Narcissa’s eyes snapped up to Andromeda’s. “Morgana’s beard, no! What? It’s just the same cut as Draco’s. I was just admiring it.”

“You know he was close to Dora. I could introduce you.”

Narcissa sipped her wine again. “I don’t need my sister’s help meeting people like I’m still thirteen.”

“If you say so, dearest.” Andromeda smirked knowingly as Draco led Harry’s cousin toward them.

The large muggle boy seemed overwhelmed, but got on quite well with Teddy. Narcissa did not understand how anyone could enjoy the company of babies. She had only really begun _liking_ Draco around four or five when he could be reasoned with. She was not heartless, of course. She loved him, but she loved a great many people she did not like. In the course of her life, most of the people she had loved she had not actually liked.

An hour later as she took her third elfin wine from Kreacher the cranky bartender, she turned to find her way blocked by a wall of a man who steadied her with a brief grasp of her arm.

“Ah, Mrs Black! I was wondering if we’d get to chat this evening.” The Minister reached smoothly behind her and took a glass of punch from the stocked tray. “I’ve just been chatting to Hermione about the big project. Fascinating stuff.”

Narcissa had no idea what to do with her hands suddenly. Why was the Minister of Magic talking to Hermione about her research project? “As fascinating as it may be, I wasn’t aware it was of national importance.” She sipped her wine, taking three steps away from Kreacher’s bar to make room. Was it also to put some distance between herself and the Minister? Even to Narcissa it was impossible to say at the moment.

The Minister followed Narcissa, a smile in his eyes beside a question. “But, Mrs Black, aren’t you aware of the nature of their project?”

Narcissa thought of the hints she had gotten from Hermione’s questions and the string research they had been doing in her library. She also considered how much she wanted to hold on to the trust she had built with Draco. It would probably be better to give him the space to do this project without her interference. Her mouth quirked. “Well, Minister, I’m trying a new parenting technique where I don’t pry. It is extraordinarily difficult, but I’m committed.”

The Minister’s eyebrow raised in a way that heartbreakingly reminded her of Lucius. “Hmm, a Slytherin mother giving her child space? I’m not sure what to think of that.”

Narcissa took another sip of wine and licked her bottom lip. “I should think my several recent appearances in your courtroom would have shown I’ve changed quite a bit. It’s impossible to say whether I’d even still qualify as a Slytherin according to that blasted hat.”

The Minister chuckled and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Well, Mrs Black, if you’d ever like to give the hat another go, I have an in with the Headmistress. I could get you an audience with the blasted hat, and you could find out for sure.” His eyes twinkled. _Twinkled!_

It was quite warm and stuffy in this room now, probably, if the creeping heat in Narcissa’s chest was to be believed.

“I’m sure, uh, sure I could speak to Professor McGonagall if I really, uh, wanted to know which house I’d fit now.” Why was her mouth so dry? This was absurd! Change the subject! Something other than her! “I wonder if any of the returning students will want to change houses on September first?”

His eyes raised slightly in thought and an eyebrow arched delicately in a non-heartbreaking manner. “That is an interesting thought, Mrs Black. I think it bears further consideration.” He sipped his forgotten punch. “Do you think many students would take the offer to be re-sorted?”

She considered. If she was still school aged after the Battle of Hogwarts, would she have wanted to return to Slytherin? With her actions influencing the end of the war so immensely? With her actions leading directly to the separation of so many historically Slytherin families? Could she have protected herself? “I think that if given a choice, some students would probably enjoy a change of scenery after last year.”

He nodded thoughtfully and his eyes seemed to bore into her with interest. It was a confusing feeling to be paid polite attention by a man after so long being overlooked or leered at. They stood staring at each other for more than a polite moment in a silence that felt different than any silence Narcissa had felt before with another person.

Their reverie was broken by the arrival of Harry’s cake and the singing and further revelry of the night.

It was not until she woke late the next morning that she realised she had never requested that the Minister please call her Narcissa.

How odd.


	3. Future Existant

Narcissa spent the five months after Harry’s birthday trying to make decisions about how the rest of her life would be shaped. She read every book she could find on the subjects of oppressed minorities, and reparations. She considered how her lack of action had caused harm to everyone outside the pureblood cause. She took to heart how she had been a part of the structures that oppressed so many.

She brought what she learned to the Spouses of Death Eaters meetings and the message fell on deaf ears. Why should they repent and do anything for those affected by the war? The spouses had also been affected by the war! Their husbands and sons were imprisoned for life now, and they had been publicly shamed for doing what they thought was right!

The Spouses began meeting without Narcissa, cutting her out of the group she had begun. So be it. She had had a hard time trusting any of their intentions anyway, so obsessed were they with Lucius and the Malfoy name. She should have known it would end badly when no one would meet her eye after she casually mentioned that Malfoy Manor had been demolished already.

By Samhain, Narcissa had begun a new group, the Society of Reparations. This time, she began with Fleur Weasley, Hermione Granger, and a partially reformed Pansy Parkinson. Their only goal was to raise and distribute money for anyone wounded in the war and the families of those murdered. They would hold a New Year's Gala to begin raising money, with all money raised going directly to the victims.

Narcissa, of course, paid for the entire gala out of the Malfoy vaults. And, every knut she spent on the Gala she matched with two knuts to the Reparations Fund. It was simply embarrassing to have as much money as she did now, and she found herself struggling to give it away at a steady enough pace to suit her new sensibilities.

As the winter set in, she found she hated the planning of the event. Why did everyone need her opinion all the time? Why was it so difficult to put all the pieces together now? How had she enjoyed and looked forward to planning these kinds of events before?

When New Year’s Eve arrived, she spent the entire day affecting last minute preparations. The triad had been helping as much as possible on their Christmas holiday, and everything seemed as done as it could be. Still, Narcissa felt she had not done enough. An hour before the Gala was to begin at Black House, Hermione pulled Narcissa away.

“Narcissa, anything that’s not done yet won’t be done. Coco has been ready and waiting for you in your dressing room for the past two hours. Go get _yourself_ ready now!”

She was startled at the force of Hermione’s bossiness. Hermione had been taking lessons on subtlety from the Slytherins all term but had apparently given up on those lessons for Narcissa today.

As she ascended the stairs to her room, she passed Neville sitting in one of the window nooks. He had an odd sort of smirk on his face and shrugged when she narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “I told her subtlety wouldn’t work today. Too much going on.”

Narissa chuckled. “I’d better make sure subtlety works today, or we’ll lose out on quite a lot of money from wealthy purebloods who need their vaults siphoned.”

Neville shrugged again with a smile. “If you can’t get them tonight, we’ll get them next time.”

Her dress was a dark bronze fabric cut with a sort of ravine of mesh going into a deep deep v down her side. The skirt clung to her legs looking like dark flames with a pattern of fringe. She had found the gown while looking for something to replace the peacocky dress Hermione wanted to use from the summer. She had found nothing suitable for the Golden Girl, but did find something to show her own transformation.

As the hosts, Narcissa, Fleur, Pansy, and Hermione greeted their quarry with bright smiles and open arms. Narcissa found it fascinating to watch as Pansy gave gentle nudges to Hermione, bringing her attention to one thing or another, training her to see what needed to be seen.

Narcissa herself felt completely out of her element all evening. No matter who she spoke to, no matter what their prior affiliation, she could not seem to choose the right mask, say the right thing, soothe the right part of their ego. Plus, everywhere she looked, there was something she should have done differently, a choice she had made wrong months ago. She could feel herself becoming shrill. It was such a problem that by ten o’clock, Fleur had to pull her aside. “Pleez, Narceesa, your sales peetch is all wrong tonight… ‘Ave a glass of champagne and breathe! We ‘ave zees under control.”

If Fleur was thrusting a champagne flute into her hand and telling her to calm down, she must have lost her edge more than she thought. It felt like something was missing. She had always done these sorts of events with a partner. First her sisters, then Lucius. And, now she was alone. She sighed and took a sip of champagne as Fleur smiled and disappeared back into the crowd.

Narcissa made a circle of the ballroom, speaking to no one, but waving and smiling to several people. At the end of her lap, she stepped out onto the thin balcony and was surprised to find herself with company in the cold night air.

“Ah, Mrs Black. I didn’t think I’d see you up close this evening.” The Minister was backlit by the light of the next window. “It seems a smashing success for the first fundraiser of the SoR. You must be quite proud of the amount raised already.”

Why did she feel like crying suddenly? “It’s a very nice start, but we’ll need quite a bit more to make any real change to the lives of those affected by the war.”

“It’s more than I was able to raise by forcing the issue through legislation.” Was that a frown on his face? It was so hard to tell without being able to see his eyes. Or mouth. Do not think of his mouth!

“Well, in another six months, Hermione will begin her clerk position in your office, and that should help you considerably. The Wizengamot may not like her, but the people seem to love her.”

His laugh rang out into the mews. “I agree. What of your son and his other partner? Have they decided on their next steps after Hogwarts?”

“Well, Neville will be trying for his Herbology Mastery starting this summer. Pomona Sprout has all but told him her job is his for the taking.” Narcissa sighed. “I don’t know what Draco wants to do next. I’m still trying to respect his privacy and he hasn’t shared his plans with me yet.”

There was a pause from the Minister. “That sounds very difficult, Mrs Black.” She shivered. “You know if he needs a good word, I’m happy to recommend him to any department he likes.”

She nodded. “I think you’d be the best person to tell him that, Minister.” She shivered again.

The Minister cast a warming charm with a slight visual element, the glow making his features stand out in the darkness. “Your dress seems to have caught fire, Mrs Black.”

She glanced down. The dress glowed like the embers of a dying fire. It was what she felt like. A dying fire. “I fear the fire is going out, not catching, Minister.”

He cleared his throat. “Mrs Black, may I ask you a personal question?”

In her mind’s ear, Narcissa caught the tail end of Hermione’s staticky murmur. “...I mean, I’m sure you’ve stashed them somewhere, and, really, it’ll be fine if you _have_ gone to bed or something. If all else fails, Pansy and I will try to accio them…”

“Minister, I’m so sorry, but it seems I’m needed inside.”

“Of course, Mrs Black. Have a lovely evening.”

As she brushed past him to return inside, she felt a jolt of loneliness at having to leave the one conversation where she had felt a little comfortable all evening.

Later, as she watched the midnight fireworks, her mask slipped slightly as she realised she had forgotten to ask him to please call her Narcissa.

* * *

On the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry threw a ball to commemorate the end of the war, celebrate the lives of those who died in the war, and dedicate a memorial to all of it.

Narcissa profoundly did not want to attend. The first five months of 1999 had been harder than the last five of 1998. She felt like she was shunning herself. She did not want to see who she was now. She withdrew from everything. It was fine. No one on either side wanted to see her much, anyway.

She could just watch her telly all day. Every day.

Sometimes Andromeda came over. Sometimes it was without Teddy.

On their Easter holiday, the triad had returned to Black House. Narcissa did her best to be herself. It was taking quite a lot of effort to be normal.

The triad saw through it immediately. Neville was the one who said something on their second day home. He asked her to join him in the garden and kindly confronted her about why the garden was nursing a gnome infestation. He urged her to find a Healer to treat what he called her “depression”. It was terribly embarrassing for the both of them, but if it had to be said by _Neville Longbottom_ of all people, Narcissa had no idea how bad it must actually be.

Cynthia, Harry Potter’s squib therapist, helped a bit with talking. Madeleine Simons helped a bit with potions and treatments. Both women encouraged her that a good first step would be to put aside what she thought wizarding society thought of her and go to the bloody Memorial Ball.

She felt an anxious mess as she and Andromeda arrived through the new floo in Hogwarts' Entrance Hall. No one was staring at her. That seemed like a good thing. Or, was it proof they were all purposely ignoring her?

Andromeda patted her hand. “I can hear you losing your cool already, dearest. Just breathe and we’ll greet Kingsley.”

“Andromeda!” The Minister’s voice beckoned them toward the Great Hall. “It’s been too long!”

After a few pleasantries between them, Andromeda was interrupted by Teddy’s hair turning bright blond as he saw his favorite cousin. Grandmother and grandson departed to pursue the third blond.

The Minister turned his attention to Narcissa. “Ah, Mrs Black! I did hope you would accept the invitation. I told Harry just the other day he should find a way to persuade you.”

Oh no. Why would the Minister specifically want her to be there? If they tried to put her in the spotlight for what she had done in the forest, she would not be able to handle it. She could hear her heart pound in her ears.

She swallowed thickly. “Yes, he did ask the other day if I’d responded. My reply must have been in the air while you were speaking of it…”

His brow furrowed. “It must have been. How have things been, with uh, your son? And his partners?”

She smiled, seeing Hermione holding the baby as he grabbed at her lengthening curls. “They’re all quite anxious about their N.E.W.T.S. next month. I saw Hermione’s revision schedule when they were home last month, and I’m surprised _she_ wasn’t resorted into Ravenclaw at the beginning of the year.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the ostentatiously dressed Ron Weasley, and Narcissa took the opportunity to slip into the ball without another awkward exchange.

She was startled to find that no one seemed to have any particular feelings about her. She managed to make polite conversation with several people who thanked her for her actions in the forest. Harry and Ginny came over to show off Ginny’s engagement ring. The triad acted as the social butterflies they all were, flitting among every group, to and fro, in each of their configurations. Molly Weasley came to Narcissa in tears with Arthur by her side, desperate to know they had been sufficiently emphatic in their desire to bury all animosity between their families. Of course there was no more animosity. That had been Lucius’s obsession. Narcissa could not muster anger that intense for anyone but Lucius.

Late in the evening, Narcissa caught a glimpse of the Minister seated beside George Weasley, hand on the redhead’s slumped shoulder. She felt a twinge of guilt that she had never been able to tell the difference between the twins. She felt another twinge of guilt that she should not be watching this exchange. She was no one to either of them.

She took a sip of punch and turned away, noticing for the first time that she was standing near the door to the veranda. Cool darkness sounded like a lovely change.

Narcissa sat on a thoughtfully placed bench by the wall and let her spine relax. She missed Scotland in the spring. Maybe she should let the triad have Black House and she could retire to Scotland.

The door opened and he was silhouetted in the light of the party. “We must stop meeting like this, Minister. People will get ideas.”

Is she flirting with the _Minister of Magic_?! How? Why?!

“Ah, Mrs Black, I’m sure no one has taken notice of either of us.” He approached and gestured to the bench beside her. “May I?”

She must be tipsy because she patted the bench beside her and the Minister sat down.

“What brings you outside on this chilly spring evening, Minister?”

“Actually, I have a question that only you can answer.”

“I am all suspense.” What on earth was this going to be about?

“Why do you shy away from any acknowledgment you did a good thing in the forest?”

Her stomach roiled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do, Mrs Black. I saw your face when Harry gave his speech. When he spoke of the forest and what you did for him.”

It was true, but he should not be saying it.

But, if not the Minister, whose job included recognising people for services to magical society, who should acknowledge she had done something good for once in her damnably stupid life?

She told him what she had been telling herself for exactly one year. “It was nothing. Just a mother’s love for her child. It was in my nature to protect my son through deception and underhandedness. I’m a Slytherin.”

“I think you did a good thing in the forest, Mrs Black. You may think it was only to protect Draco, that it’s just more Slytherin loyalty, but it can be both.”

The Minister’s hand brushed hers as she stood suddenly. “I can’t… I can’t…” She felt too warm. “Please excuse me, I’m feeling unwell.”

It was weeks later that Narcissa realised what had still been unsaid between herself and the Minister.

* * *

Due to N.E.W.T.S., Narcissa waited until the triad was home from Hogwarts to celebrate Draco’s birthday.

It was a very small affair in the garden with the triad and a few of their friends, plus Andromeda and Teddy and the freed elves. It was just a simple dinner party, but it felt to Narcissa like she was finally celebrating having a new family.

When all the guests had gone home and the cleanup completed, Narcissa sat on her favorite garden bench and watched the softly undulating glow of the silpher leaves. Draco sat down beside her in the darkness.

“Did you have a nice party, my dragon?” She reached for his hand and he let her hold it.

There was a smile in his voice. “Yes, mum, it was really nice to relax with everyone.”

She sighed contentedly. “I love it when you call me Mum. I wish we’d been that sort of family.”

“I don’t know what kind of family I wish we’d been, but I do like that we have that relationship now. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to trust you again, mum.”

She nodded, feeling the tears in her eyes. “No, it’s my fault you couldn’t trust me. It’s entirely my fault. I’m just glad you found your way without me - that you _could_ find your way without me. That depression thing I’ve been seeing Madeleine and Cynthia about, I think it’s been going on in one way or another for much longer than I knew. It’s only appeared worse since the end of the war because my life is so different now.”

Draco squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry, mum. Can I do anything for you?”

She shook her head. “No, my darling. I’m working on it myself.” She paused, not knowing if this was the right time to ask personal questions. “Darling, can I ask you something? I’ve been trying to give you space, but there are a few things I’ve been wondering.”

He chuckled. “Yes, mum. I’m not trying to hide anything. I just thought you were wrapped up in your own life.”

She sighed again, drawing courage from the breath. “What Ministry department were you hired for?”

Draco laughed aloud. “Is that all? I’m starting in International Magical Cooperation. Kingsley said I’d probably enjoy the challenge of it, plus my translation charms and language proficiency are quite good.”

“Quite good… You say it like you didn’t get an O on your Charms N.E.W.T.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been trying humility and I like it.”

“That’s a hell of a drug, my darling. May I ask another?” He nodded and squeezed her hand again. “What was your project last summer? The room project? I’ve heard some strange things and I’m not sure what to believe.”

He sighed quite deeply and pulled his hand away. “I’ll answer, just give me a moment to think of how to put it.”

She nodded. “Take your time.”

The silpher leaves glowed red for a moment, signalling magic use nearby. They heard the crack of apparition and then a knock at Harry’s back door before it opened and closed and they were alone again.

“So, you know that Hermione and I were soulmates. Well, our strings had gone through the wall of the Room of Requirement. Obviously, that wall was destroyed during the battle, possibly as part of what happened with Vince’s death. So, we had our fulfilled bond, but it wasn’t what we both really wanted. In addition to that, our strings and the strings of four of our friends were all tangled and piled all over the seventh floor where the Room of Requirement had been.”

She smiled as she remembered her tea last year with Hermione. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

“Through researching and putting the pieces together, Hermione figured out that maybe our strings were trying to get us to rebuild the Room using the potential in the strings as a component in the construction. Then, there was the fact that I was falling in love with Neville at the same time, and his soulmate was never going to be able to be happy with him. So, severing all of our strings to rebuild the Room and consequently the castle seemed like a good idea.”

Narcissa choked a tiny gasp. “You all severed your strings? All of you? But, you and Hermione?!”

He took her hand again. “We’re fine. It was what we wanted. We wanted to be able to choose each other. And, we did. We all chose who we wanted when it was done. We learned everything we needed to learn to do it safely and correctly. We’re all much happier now than we were before. And, the three of us retwined our strings together. All three of us. It’s really nice, mum.”

She frowned. “All three of you? I’m just shocked. How? What is it like?”

He laughed a little and squeezed her hand again. “It helped that we wanted it to be with each other. One afternoon after classes last month, we were sitting on the lawn to study and I looked over at them and felt like I’d pulled a warm blanket around myself on a cool day and I just knew I’d retwined with them.” He laughed again. “It feels like the original bond with Hermione, but different because I don’t feel like anyone was forced into it because of fate. It still feels like forever, just a forever that I have control of. I think they’d both say the same.”

She took a shaky breath. “That sounds, uh, I don’t know…” She took another shaky breath. “I’m feeling a bit off after that. Thank you for telling me, Draco. I appreciate your forthrightness. I’m just going to go to bed now.” She stood to make her way back into the library.

Draco nodded. “I understand. I love you, mum. Sleep well.” He rose and kissed her cheek before opening the library door for her.

As they separated in the library, Draco turned back. “Oh, and I’m really happy to call you mum. It feels good, so I’m going to keep on with it.”

It was still her new favorite name to be called.

* * *

Narcissa would be entirely herself again, finally. After nearly a year of her solicitor hacking her marriage contract to pieces, she would finally lose the Malfoy entirely.

With no more Malfoy Manor, and Draco sure to take Hermione or Neville’s surname, the name might die with Lucius. Good riddance to it.

She would see Lucius just once in all the proceedings. When finally the warlock would cast the curse to break the marriage bond itself, the sniveling coward had to be summoned from Azkaban.

On the day of the curse itself, Narcissa was shocked to see the man to whom she had devoted her life reduced to skin and bone, eyes sunken and hair shorn.

As if he had forgotten his days in court and specifically Narcissa’s part in his trial, the silver eyes of Lucius Malfoy lit up when he saw her sitting at the table. “Darling, it’s been too long.”

Narcissa found herself sneering. “You shall no longer address me in such a familiar manner.”

Lucius pouted. “That was all you could ever have been to me, my dear. You were meant for me from our birth, and no one else could be what we were to each other. You were the only one, and I shall never think of you any other way.”

Narcissa’s mask was firmly in place enough that she did not roll her eyes, but it was a struggle. She had not kept up her practice of this particular one, and it felt almost creaky. She turned to the warlock. “Can we begin?”

The warlock nodded and the final proceedings began. The marriage contract was read in full, and as each point was proven to be broken, that point was voided, the warlock’s wand slicing the broken promise out of the document.

By the end, Narcissa was pleased that the remaining document was indeed not enough for Lucius to wipe his arse with.

Lucius managed to keep his composure through the reading and testimony. His breakdown came quite suddenly and only just as the warlock prepared the incantation.

“Please, Narcissa! Please, you must take pity on me! I’ve loved you, loved you so immensely, but what was I to do? Die and then let you die at my master’s hand? At your sister’s hand? They would have killed you, killed Draco. I had to do what I did! It killed me, my love, my darling Narcissa… And you kill me now…” His face was blotchy red with his sobs. “Please, Narcissa… please, my dearest…”

Narcissa’s heart did clench in her chest with his pleas. She _had_ been married to him for twenty years. But for how much of that time had it been a true marriage? He had never confided in her about anything important, certainly. He had driven their son nearly mad with the use of dark magic at an early age. He had seen her as a prop, not a true partner, not a real soulmate.

She shook her head. “I do nothing to you now, Lucius. It is more than you deserve. I will finally be free, and you will finally have nothing. I shall leave here today and think of you no more, nor will my son.”

He stilled sharply, silver eyes meeting hers with burning hatred visible. “So be it, woman.”

The warlock was ready now and incanted the curse. Narcissa felt it physically, like a heavy burden made heavier at the last moment before it was lifted. Both spouses coughed heavily, a thick mist expelling itself from their lungs to dissipate into the light of the room.

And then it was complete. Lucius was sent immediately back to Azkaban and Narcissa walked out into the halls of the Ministry as Narcissa Black again.

* * *

At the weekend, to celebrate her new freedom, Narcissa Black took herself on what Hermione had called a “shopping spree”. She had always dressed well, but in the year since the Battle of Hogwarts, she had been branching out considerably. She was well known to the shop girls in several muggle high streets by now.

It was on the high street in Camden that she unexpectedly met the Minister of Magic, of all people. “Ah, Mrs Black! It’s been too long. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” His eyes smiled with the rest of his face as Narcissa looked up at him.

The Minister towered over her not only because of his height. Why was he making pleasant conversation again? It was all they ever did! Just, pleasure to see you, yes pleasure to see you too, how are Draco and his partners, fine thanks, how is running the bloody country? Narcissa had never had such trouble cracking into useful and interesting conversation with anyone before. She had managed to converse with Arthur Weasley about that PTSD thing last month, so what was the bloody problem with her and the Minister?!

And, why could she not invite her name to pass his lips? It was beginning to drive her mad.

“It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Minister. What brings you out to muggle London?” Safe enough. Maybe this was finally the conversation they could say something interesting.

He patted the shopping bag he held. “I enjoy challenging the ideas of how my position should present itself.” His eyes smiled as his eyebrow arched with that challenge. “Mrs Black, would you trust a Minister who wore suits instead of robes?”

“Have you been polyjuiced by Rita Skeeter? What a question!” His laugh boomed around her. It felt more comfortable than she expected. “I suppose if a Minister wore his robes to court, as long as he looked official outside court, it wouldn’t matter much if he was wearing a suit or robes.”

He frowned slightly, the playful (?!) look leaving his brown eyes. “But, would _you_ trust a Minister who wore suits?”

Something was wrong. What was she missing? “I don’t know why I wouldn’t.”

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Mrs Black, may I be more direct with you?”

What was happening? Her heart pounded in her ears suddenly and she nodded.

“I always enjoy seeing you, but each time we meet, I find myself more and more curious about who you are. I’ve never been able to find out a single actual opinion of yours, on any subject. It is driving me to distraction.”

She could see it. The tense tilt of his shoulders, the way he held his jaw, the restlessness of his feet. Why was he so interested, though?

“Minister, why would you care what I think about anything?” She bit the inside of her lip.

His voice lowered, rumbling through her being. “I have always been interested in people, Mrs Black. _All people_. And, as you are a person, I have been interested in you. But, you have skirted every question I’ve ever asked you. And that, I find fascinating. More than fascinating.” His eyes smiled again. “Each question skirted multiplies the questions I’ve never voiced for politeness sake. And, not only that, but your son and his boyfriend swore to me you have something you say to everyone as you meet them. But, you’ve never said it to me, and I have to wonder why that is.”

“But, why do you care?” She could hear the anxiety and, what was that, fear in her voice? “I’m nothing now. Why should the Minister care what I think? Or, what to call me? With so much disgrace to my name, what should it be to you, Minister?”

His arms crossed in front of him and he seemed to be appraising her. “I believe in the innate worth of every person, Mrs Black. But, not just that. I care what you think because you are someone who has been overlooked over and over, and made that a sort of armor for yourself. I don’t believe that your name is disgraced. You have now excised the part of your name with the worst associations, and although I have _seen you_ introduce yourself to others with a request to use the part of your name you prefer, you have never addressed that request to me. And, I seem to be the only member of magical society excluded from that request. I’ve asked many people, and they are all permitted to use your given name. So, I have to wonder why that is, as well, Mrs Black.”

Why would he ask anyone else about her? Why should he care? Unless… he actually cared…

She looked into his eyes, so dark and intense. She wanted to answer him, truly answer every question he ever posed, but without any of her masks to filter her answers. She sighed into the feeling.

Oh. Draco was right about that feeling. It was just like pulling a blanket around yourself on a cool evening.

She took a small breath. “Minister, would you like to join me for tea? I am feeling a bit parched at the moment and would enjoy continuing this conversation, if you might be interested.” She let herself smile up at him genuinely. “And, if you’d like, please call me Narcissa.”

He beamed down at her and offered his elbow. “Thank you, Narcissa. I would like that. And, please, call me Kingsley.”

It was Narcissa’s turn to laugh loudly.

_**The End** _


End file.
